


nothing left except you and this

by Julx3tte



Series: hidden beneath the kissing folds and lily pads [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Also Kissing, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff, Hermione cameo at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 06:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13358235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julx3tte/pseuds/Julx3tte
Summary: A few weeks after "to love, to kiss," Harry and Ginny go on a date around campus. They trespass into a few buildings, steal from a church, and get caught in the rain."She thinks about how, as his descriptions get more vivid and detailed, he gets more excited than she’s seen him - and how his arm snakes around her shoulder and draws her closer."





	nothing left except you and this

**Author's Note:**

> okay well this had a lot more uh kissing than i thought. hope you enjoy! leave me a comment on what worked - writing a lot of Ginny's POV is a little more unfamiliar territory. tell me what (if) you liked! i'm really enjoying weaving in backstory and figuring out who they'd be. but here, i think, they're just realizing how much they like each other's company.

“So. Haaaave you ever gotten caught by the cops?” Ginny’s climbing up a ladder, but she looks down at Harry, who’s keeping his eyes glued to the floor instead of at her. “Oh, right, skirt,” she laughs. “Oops.”

Harry’s chin doesn’t stop touching his chest until she throws a pebble at him from the top.

“No,” he answers when makes it up. “And I don’t plan to make this the first.”

They’re up on the rooftop of a building neither of them had ever stepped in before - it was on _the other part_ of campus and  they closed off the roof access with a gate and a raised ladder. These were carefully navigated around, as are the generators and turbines, until they make it to the ledge and sit down.

Ginny leans over and puts her head on his shoulders. “Did ever think this town would be so beautiful?”

She’s looking out at the skyline. Below them is a quad, with a few students still walking to and from the library. But beyond, where the hill slopes down, is the rest of the town, painted orange and purple by what’s left of the sun. She sees downtown, a single street with lights strung up between lamp-posts, and the industrial sector with prim office buildings. She sees, beyond it all, an open field and a red-roofed tower - the Burrow.

“That’s where I grew up,” she points to Harry. “You can’t see it, but there’s a window with green glass. I asked for a year before they let me have it. When the sun hits just right… you’d have to be inside to see.”

She winks, but Harry doesn’t notice. He stares at the tower, thinking about how Ron and Ginny and all their brothers lived there together. He makes the mistake of looking down - at the ledge, at his feet, at Ginny’s hand now touching his - and all he can do is smile.

That she shares that with him, that she shares this with him.

“My house was basically a mansion,” he says. “It was the only neighborhood where my dad didn’t get accosted with media people whenever he tried to go buy eggs from the grocery. My parents grew into liking the place, I think. They keep the extra rooms open for my uncles or my friends. My grandparents moved in down the street.”

He describes his home, and Ginny thinks about how Harry was the only one close to his age - how he had to grow up quickly to enjoy his parent’s humor and how patient they must have been. How much attention and love they’d poured into him, and how he’d given it back by staying with them until last summer.

She thinks about how, as his descriptions get more vivid and detailed, he gets more excited than she’s seen him - and how his arm snakes around her shoulder and draws her closer.

They watch the city like that, for a while. The oranges and purples giving way to moonlight; how each street glows under street lamps. Ginny points to different spots and shares memories, and Harry listens to her share her stories with such enthusiasm and fondness that he can’t hold it in anymore, and decides that he needs to taste the way her heart pours itself into her words, the way her lungs breathe warmth and familiarity.

He touches her cheek and turns her head, and as her eyes whip to ask what he wants her to see - he kisses her.

She’d been pointing at a building, holding her head proud of how she’d escaped, but as he kisses her, her pointing arm falls onto her lap because she can’t focus on anything but staying on the ledge and the feeling on her lips.

He kisses in a way to capture, but she kisses in a way to remind him that he’s the one that’s caught. His lips are tender, and his hand pulls her closer, but she knows how to get away from almost anything, so as he inhales a breath she covers his mouth with her lips, slips her tongue over his and feels the hand on her face fall limp.

For good measure, she slides her hands in his hair, and he melts into her. They stay like that for a while.

 

* * *

  

They stay, at least, until it rains. The wind moves clouds in from the hills to cover the moonlight, proclaiming itself with a thunderclap, and it begins to _pour_.

So they climb down the roof as quickly as possible, lose Harry’s glasses along the way to a slippery step, and run down the street, Ginny leading by the hand, searching for the closest open building. The first 3 doors are locked, but Ginny finally pushes a door open and pulls Harry inside.

The only open place happens to be an old cathedral-turned-historic site. It’s dark, and somehow the rainwater flowing from the spires and the lightning flashing above make it look more ominous.

It’s pitch black when they get inside.

“Only until the rain lets up,” Ginny says, twisting water out of her skirt. Water drips all over the carpet. “This feels quite sacrilegious,” she laughs.

“I think churches are supposed to be sanctuaries, so I don’t think they’d mind,” Harry says. “And if this one is anything like the one at home, there’ll be a clothing drive box somewhere along the wall we can borrow from.”

“Stealing from a church?” she laughs as she follows the wall to find a box. As her eyes adjust to the dark, she makes out the tall, painted ceiling, and a large wooden cross hanging above the stage. She points Harry to the box, and helps him dig inside whenever the lightning flashes through the windows.

She finds a towel and puts it in Harry’s hands. “This should help. We’ll just wash it and bring it back tomorrow.”

There’s only one, so they take turns to dry their hair and their face and wring out their clothes, but they’re still shivering. As Harry peeks outside the window, checking the rain, Ginny presses up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Cold,” she says quietly.

“There’s probably a jacket in the box,” Harry says automatically, still focused on trying to squint through the rain through the window.

“I’ve got a better idea,” she replies. It’s almost a whisper, and he barely hears her over the storm outside.

She gets on her toes and puts her lips on the back of his neck, just behind his ear, breathes warmly. Harry’s cheeks glow bright red and his posture stiffens for a moment before settling into Ginny’s embrace. She does it again, this time running her tongue an inch, and he groans softly, pressing back against her. On the third time, she bites his ear and whispers, “warm yet?”

They stay like that a while too, counting shadows made by lightning in the sky illuminating the spires above them. Eventually Harry, tired of the wet clothes sticking to his back, flips them around, her back to the wall, his forearms beside her head supporting his weight. She nuzzles into his chest, feeling the vibrations when he speaks.

“When I was younger I hated coming here. It was always so boring with nothing to do. I remember one time, I saw the priest sprinkle holy water around and decided to give it a try. I was probably 6 or 7, dipped my hand inside the little fountain and started flinging water around. One of the nuns yelled at me for dripping water everywhere.”

He spoke slow and deep, voice resonating in his chest as Ginny pressed in. He can’t remember the last time he’d been so uncomfortable - dripping wet and far from warmth - while feeling so unconcerned about anything but the buzzing in his voice to lull his date and help her forget about the rain too.

“And here you are, dripping wet, pressing a girl against the wall. Whatever would those nuns say,” Ginny replies.

 _They’d call me blessed_ , Harry thinks.

 

* * *

 

A while later, the raindrops stop and the pair walk back to Ginny’s apartment - the closer by far. She makes him throw his clothes in the dyer and sends him off to the shower. She changes herself, puts on some tea and popcorn, and settles into the couch with a blanket, thankful to be home.

She thinks about how she’s never pursued someone in this way before. In the past she’d let the other person make all of the moves and set the pace. She’d never let herself be uncomfortable, but there was never a reason to push.

But with Harry, there’s a feeling sitting at the top of her stomach, telling her to take what she wants. She can’t tell if it’s from how open Harry is with her - about who he is and who he sees her as - or from how tender and careful he is, even when they’re just holding hands. Like he’s letting her decide and meeting her there.

As she thinks of this, and of their rain-soaked kisses, she runs her finger across her lips, a poor substitute for his.

“This is gonna sound weird,” Harry says as he walks in, wearing, ridiculously, a pair of her larger gym shorts and a spare tee, “but my mom does something similar when she’s thinking about my dad. She gets lost in the moment, touches her ear. Sometimes I catch my dad watching her like he’s lost too.”

He makes his way over to the couch, lifts her feet up so he can sit and places her legs down on his lap, and continues. “Not to try to think of you and my mother at the same time ever, really, but that’s the first thing I thought of when I walked in.” He takes a sip of tea while she puts on a movie.

“No I think I know what you mean. Sometimes when my and my brothers are together, usually only holidays now that Bill’s married, we’ll be sitting on a bench together and my dad and mom will look at each other like they can’t believe all 7 of us are grown and together.”

Harry imagines Ginny, Ron, and 5 other redheads on a bench together, remembers how volatile 2 of them are and tries to imagine the whole clan’s chaos. Ginny sees the smirk on his face.

“Before you ask, our parents barely made it through raising us all - between the twins getting into all sorts of trouble and Ron and I being so much younger. They had grey hair a decade too early.” She pauses for a moment, thinking about how they might react to Harry. “Want to meet them for lunch next week with Ron and Hermione?”

“Only if it’s a Sunday,” Harry says through a chuckle. I think double the Weasleys counts as a new experience for me.

“Oh shush,” she says, throwing popcorn at him.

He pulls her blanket over him, pulls her closer by the waist, and settles into the movie. “I’ll head home after,” he says over a yawn.

He doesn’t make it. The next morning, Hermione comes home and finds them asleep on the couch - half tangled in a blanket, Ginny’s head on his shoulder, and laughs at his obviously borrowed clothes.

She takes a quick picture, realizes Ginny’s nose is bright red and sniffling, and leaves a tissue box on the coffee table before heading right to bed herself.

**Author's Note:**

> next part is a sickfic though obvssssss ;)
> 
> bonus if you figure out where the title is from


End file.
